


Shadows Cast by Outward Things

by wesleysgirl



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:38:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleysgirl/pseuds/wesleysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that John doesn't know how obsessed Rodney can get when he's really focused on something -- he does. What he hadn't known was that Rodney was holding onto this all this time, and it's kind of disturbing to find out something new about Rodney now. Especially something like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows Cast by Outward Things

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [](http://mmmchelle.livejournal.com/profile)[mmmchelle](http://mmmchelle.livejournal.com/), [](http://sgamadison.livejournal.com/profile)[sgamadison](http://sgamadison.livejournal.com/) and [](http://moonlettuce.livejournal.com/profile)[moonlettuce](http://moonlettuce.livejournal.com/) for all their very valuable help!

 

_"Are you sure this isn't the planet with that gigantic Tyrannosaurus Rex thing?" Rodney asked, adjusting his vest as they walked toward the village._

_John sighed. "For the last time, yes, I'm sure. That was M1M-316."_

_"Well, it looks the same." Rodney couldn't help but be suspicious. There were the same large trees with the same viney overgrowth working its way up them, individual leaves several feet across._

_"Many of the planets in our system resemble each other," Teyla said. "Is it not so on your world?"_

_"Not really," Rodney said. There was no point in trying to explain some things. "I just can't believe we're wasting our time here," he complained. "It's not like there's any chance of developing a mutually beneficial relationship with these people. They probably don't even know how procreation works."_

_"I am sure they know enough," Teyla said serenely. "There are many children, after all."_

_"Yes, very funny. Everyone loves sex jokes." Rodney narrowly missed turning his ankle on the uneven ground._

_"You started it, McKay," Ronon said. He sounded amused._

_"I did not!"_

_John laughed. "Sure you did."_

_"Oh, yes, take their side," Rodney groused. "You're my..." He waved his hand in the air in lieu of the word he wasn't going to say. "You know. You're supposed to side with me."_

_"Not when you're being a jerk," Ronon said, and Rodney started looking for a rock to throw at him._

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

He has all the information. He knows he does. It's just a matter of finding it. The problem is, he brought back-up copies of the files on a flash drive, and even though he knows it's somewhere, he can't remember exactly where he put it when he was unpacking. Twice. In fact, he doesn't remember seeing it at all the second time around, and that new realization makes his sense of panic spiral upward, twisting him into knots that make it hard to breathe.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

_The fire was crackling in the background, a sound that Rodney found strangely soothing, especially when coupled with the quiet murmurs outside the walls of the hut they'd been given for the night. Teyla and Ronon were talking softly to each other on the other side of the hut, something about a game they'd played when they were kids and the ways in which the two versions differed. On Rodney's side of the hut, in their shared bed, John was silent, eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly._

_Rodney drifted off to sleep, all of the sounds around him merging into one low grumble._

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

"Rodney?" John's voice is worried over the comm.

"Yes, yes, what?" Rodney snaps, striding over to a box that's been sitting against the wall since the most recent move and opening it, beginning to take out papers and other things one at a time. The drive is here somewhere; it _has_ to be.

"What the hell is going on?" John asks. "No, hang on. I'm coming through the 'gate now. Tell me when I get there."

Rodney goes back to his frantic search.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

_Screaming._

_Rodney bolted upright, heart pounding. "What was that?"_

_"Sounded like screaming," John said, already in the doorway. He had his weapon drawn, and within seconds both Teyla and Ronon had joined him._

_"A child," Teyla said. They were silhouetted by the firelight, the edges of flame licking around them, making them glow. Rodney had struggled to his feet and was feeling around for his shirt. Where the hell was it?_

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

"Okay, I'm here. Talk to me, Rodney." John's voice in Rodney's ear, but Rodney can't be bothered to knock the radio off.

It's not here. It's not anywhere. "Where is it?!" he shouts, throwing the empty box across the room in frustration and staggering to his feet. He's yanked a drawer from the table and turned it upside down, scattering the contents, before John comes jogging into the room. "I can't find it," Rodney says, caught between plaintive and angry.

John puts his hands on Rodney's shoulders and steadies him. "What can't you find?"

"The _flash drive_ ," Rodney says. "The one with all my research on it -- the one I brought with me." His eyes scan the room, looking for a new place to check.

"Slow down a minute," John says, catching Rodney's chin in his hand and turning his face to look at him. "What drive? What does it look like?"

"What do you think it looks like?" Rodney snaps, pulling away and gesturing with his hand. "It's a flash drive. This big. Black."

"Okay... where was the last place you saw it?" John is calm and reasonable. It makes Rodney want to hit him.

"If I knew that, I'd know where to find it, wouldn't I." Rodney goes over to the bed and gets down on his hands and knees, looking underneath, but there's nothing under there.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

_The screaming was coming from a hut that was surrounded by worried villagers, the women clutching shawls over their heads and keening softly. "Let us through," John said, and the crowd parted._

_Inside, a trembling, weeping kid was curled up on the floor. He was covered with something black and shiny, and when the man who was crouching next to the boy stood up, his lifted torch illuminated the hut, and Rodney and the others all saw it at the same time._

_The black, shiny substance was blood, and it covered the walls and the ceiling as if someone had turned on a hose and fountained the stuff everywhere. The smell of it, heavy and faintly metallic, made Rodney feel sick._

_The kid was muttering something._

_"His parents have disappeared," the man holding the torch said. "He says that a monster took them."_

_Rodney could feel his heart just... stop. There was a roaring in his ears, and he realized that he was about to pass out in time to sink down to his knees. "Monster?" he said. The voices around him sounded far away. "What does he mean, monster?"_

_"He says it was black, like a shadow, and that it moved more like water than a man." The man turned to the boy and questioned him softly, and the boy mumbled a few more words. "He says there was a sound like writing."_

_"Like writing?" Even Rodney's own voice sounded far away. "What does that mean? Like writing what?"_

_"The people here use flat boards to write on," Teyla explained, stepping closer. "They are made of a special type of stone. It is dark in color."_

_"Fingernails," Rodney said. "Fingernails on a blackboard."_

_And he staggered to his feet, shoved his way through the crowd, and ran for the Stargate, ignoring the sound of John calling his name behind him._

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

"Look, you have to tell me what the hell is going on," John says, grabbing Rodney's upper arm and interrupting his search of yet another box full of random items.

"Cut it out!" Rodney shouts, right in John's face. The surprise and shock he sees there make him feel good. "Can't you see this is important?"

"I get that it's important!" John says. "And I want to help. But I can't unless you tell me!"

"I can't," Rodney whispers. He's shaking. "Not now. I have to find that drive."

"Okay. Okay." One of John's hands slides from Rodney's shoulder up to his face and rests there. "Just calm down. We'll find it."

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Unfortunately, that's easier said than done, and an hour later they're back in Rodney's old quarters, going through some boxes he'd left there.

"I kept meaning to come back for these," Rodney says, feverishly dumping a box out and skittering his hands through the papers and things that fall out onto the floor.

Any attempts John has made to find out what the hell is going on have been ignored. He sorts through a box, doesn't find anything remotely resembling a flash drive, and moves on to the next as Rodney huffs in frustration and stands up. John happens to glance at him in time to see him pale and wavering. He leaps to his feet and grabs hold of Rodney. "Sit down. Rodney! Sit!"

"I'm not a dog," Rodney mutters, but he sits down on the chair that John pushes him into. John can feel him trembling.

"When was the last time you ate?" John demands, crouching beside the chair.

"I don't know," Rodney says. He's sweaty and white, his pulse racing when John checks it. John digs in his pocket and finds a power bar, tearing the end of the wrapper off with his teeth before giving it to Rodney.

"Here," John says. Rodney takes a bite and chews slowly. "You've been running around for hours. No wonder your blood sugar's low."

Rodney stops chewing and swallows. It's clear from his expression, one that John has seen before, that the food isn't going to stay down.

They barely make it to the bathroom in time, and even then Rodney ends up puking in the sink instead of the toilet. John puts his hand on the back of Rodney's neck as he retches. "Okay. Easy. It's okay."

"It's not okay," Rodney says, straightening up. "Not even close."

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Rodney's too weak to do more than mildly protest as John guides him back to their room, but he does insist on brushing his teeth before he sits down. "Drink this," John says, popping the top off a glass bottle of juice they keep for emergencies and pushing it into Rodney's hand, then sitting beside him.

Slowly, Rodney sips at the juice, and eventually a little bit of color comes back into his face. He leans against John and sighs shakily. "That was bad."

"It's still bad," John says, slipping his arm around Rodney now that the irrational anger phase has passed. "In a few minutes I'll go get you something with protein, okay?"

"Okay." Rodney is subdued, letting John support his weight.

John rubs Rodney's shoulder. "Tell me," he says.

"I can't. Not right now," Rodney says, his voice barely more than a whisper. Then, so softly that John can hardly hear him, "Don't make me."

John puts his other arm around Rodney and just holds him. "Okay. Okay. I won't."

Slowly, Rodney drifts off to sleep. After a little while, John eases Rodney down onto the bed and makes a quick trip to the mess hall, where he snags a peanut butter sandwich and a chunk of cheese. Rodney is still in the same position when he gets back, and doesn't appreciate being woken up and ordered to eat, but when John threatens to call Keller, Rodney grumbles and eats the sandwich and most of the cheese before essentially passing out again.

John lets Elizabeth know what's going on; she sounds, reasonably enough, confused, but agrees to let him handle things. Then he checks in with Teyla and Ronon, who've stayed behind in the village to help. An additional hour scouring their quarters doesn't turn up the drive. John would have gone back to Rodney's old room, but under the circumstances he isn't sure it's a good idea to leave Rodney on his own, so eventually he gives up and goes to bed, too.

Working had been better. Lying in bed, awake, he doesn't have anything to distract him. All he can wonder about is what the hell might have happened, why Rodney had reacted so badly and taken off like that, and what's on that drive that's so important.

He isn't sure when he falls asleep, but John wakes up to the earliest rays of morning sunlight coming in through the windows. His arm is around Rodney's waist from behind, but he knows immediately that Rodney's awake. They lay there quietly for a few minutes, then Rodney inhales and starts to speak.

"I was fourteen," he says. His voice is so flat that John wouldn't even have believed it was his if he hadn't felt the vibration in Rodney's chest. "When my mother disappeared. I saw it happen."

John presses his lips to the back of Rodney's shoulder and waits.

"I heard something. I didn't know what it was. Actually, I thought it was Jeannie sleepwalking again. She did that a lot. So I went to check, because once I was up I was up." Rodney is still like that, even now. "But Jeannie was still asleep, and my mom was, too, in her room. And there was something else there..." John hears Rodney swallow, and strokes his hand soothingly along Rodney's chest. "This thing. Like a black shadow. Kind of like that entity, remember? The one that Jinto accidentally set free just after we got here?"

"Yeah," John says. He remembers.

"Except... except this was shaped more like a person. It moved forward, toward the bed, and it... it reached for her. I couldn't decide if I was really awake or if I was just dreaming... but when I turned on the light, I heard this noise that gave me goosebumps. Fingernails on a blackboard; like a voice. Like it was talking to me. And then it was just... gone. And so was my mother."

John hugs Rodney tighter helplessly. "Jesus, Rodney."

"They thought she left," Rodney says, his voice still flat. "Abandoned us. That we were too much for her to handle, after the divorce. I tried to tell them what happened."

"Let me guess -- no one believed you." John is horrified, trying to imagine Rodney as a teenager, dealing with something so terrible.

"I kept insisting that I knew what I saw, but they thought I was, I don't know, having some sort of breakdown. Emotionally unstable. When they started to say things about having me committed, I shut up." Rodney is quiet then, his breathing slow and steady, his heartbeat reassuring under John's hand.

"What's on the drive?" John asks.

Rodney turns over onto his back and stares at the ceiling. "All the information that I collected when I was doing research trying to figure out what that thing was. Everything I could remember, every detail. I wanted to know what it was, where it might have come from." He lifts a hand and puts it over his eyes. "It's been so long I thought... I thought maybe... maybe I really was crazy. Temporarily, at least."

"I wish you'd told me," John says gently.

"Oh, right, because that would have done wonders for our relationship. It's always a good idea to tell people about one's history of possible mental illness." Rodney doesn't move, and after a minute John reaches up and tugs on Rodney's hand, pulling it away from his face.

"Hey," he says. "Whatever it was you saw... I believe you. Okay?"

Rodney keeps his eyes closed. "Okay." He doesn't sound confident of the fact, though, and John isn't sure what he can do to convince him. This is all a lot to take in.

"Why don't you go take a shower?" John suggests. "I'll bring you some coffee."

"Would you?" Rodney sounds uncharacteristically grateful.

"Yeah. Go on." John keeps an eye on Rodney as he gets up and walks across the room, wanting to make sure that he's steady enough on his feet, then drops his face into his own hands and just breathes. He hadn't signed on for this. He doesn't know how to deal with it. And despite what he'd said, he isn't one hundred percent sure he believes Rodney. When bad things happen, kids can make up all kinds of things to explain away what they don't want to accept.

He leaves Rodney's coffee on the edge of the bathroom sink and steps into the shower when Rodney steps out. He scrubs himself down quickly and efficiently. When he gets out, Rodney's only wearing a shirt and is crouched over his laptop, eyes scanning the screen feverishly.

"What's up?" John asks.

Rodney doesn't even glance at him. "I found the drive. It was at the back of one of my drawers."

John guesses it was hidden behind the pants lying crumpled on the floor, which would explain why they're abandoned. "Well, good." He goes around to stand behind Rodney so he can see the laptop screen, where information is scrolling by as Rodney reacquaints himself with his research. There are short notes without punctuation, longer paragraphs in a variety of fonts that might have been probably copied and pasted in from elsewhere, and a collection of drawings. Some of the drawings are all pixelated like they were scanned in. "Wow, that's..."

"Yes, yes, I know," Rodney mutters, like he thinks John is going to say something complimentary and not _'kind of nuts'._ Which isn't really what John thinks, even if it was on the tip of his tongue to say it.

It's not that he doesn't know how obsessed Rodney can get when he's really focused on something -- he does. What he hadn't known was that Rodney was holding onto this all this time, and it's kind of disturbing to find out something new about Rodney now. Especially something like this.

"Okay," Rodney says briskly, shutting the laptop and standing up. He goes over to get his pants and starts pulling them on.

"Where are you going?" John asks him.

"Back to that god-forsaken planet, of course," Rodney says, sitting to put on his shoes. "If that creature is there, I need to find it. Or find out where it went."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," John says. He runs the towel through his chest hair and then tosses it into the bathroom, where it lands half draped over the sink.

"Why, because you think I'm losing my mind?" Rodney glances at him.

"No, of course not," John says. "But how do you think you're going to find this thing?"

"I don't know," Rodney says. "But once I do, I can track it. Ronon can help with that, I'm sure."

Since it's obvious Rodney's getting ready to leave with or without him, John starts pulling his own clothes on hastily. "Rodney, _I_ can help with that, okay?"

"Okay. I just... I have to do this." Rodney straightens up and pulls his shirt down, smoothing it unconsciously with his palms. His eyes flicker up to meet John's for a second before they dart away again. "I have to."

John nods, trying like hell to understand. "Okay. Let's go."

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Rodney confronts the first person they see after they step through the 'gate. "You," he says, snapping his fingers. "Where's the boy?"

"The boy?" The man looks confused and Rodney rolls his eyes impatiently.

"The one whose parents disappeared. What was his name? Asher? Albert?"

"Alonis," the man says. "He is in the elders' home with your friends."

When they find the boy, he's sitting next to Teyla, his eyes blank. Someone's cleaned the blood off him, at least. Teyla is holding his hand. Rodney gets down on the floor of the hut, for once not complaining about his knees, and touches the boy's leg. There's no reaction.

"Alonis," Rodney says. "Hey. I know --" He sounds tentative; John isn't used to that. "I know you must be really confused right now, and... and, and upset. You must... see, there's something you need to know. This is... this isn't the first time this had happened. It's happened before, to other people."

The boy doesn't move.

"It happened to me," Rodney says desperately. "To my mother. She disappeared, and... I think she was taken by the same monster that took your parents."

The boy lifts his eyes and looks at Rodney, not quite focused. His lower lip trembles, and he doesn't pull his hand away from Teyla's, but he opens his mouth like he's going to say something.

Instead, he starts to scream.

Rodney recoils, so startled that he loses his balance and falls back onto his ass on the dirt floor. The kid just keeps screaming. There are no words in it, no sense to it, just mindless terror. People from the village come running, and two of them, along with Teyla, try to comfort the boy, but in the end they force him to drink some rank-smelling herbal drink and he gradually runs out of steam, shrieks fading to squawks to blessed, blessed silence.

John doesn't even know what to say. The look on the kid's face while he was screaming -- well, it makes John's skin crawl just thinking about it. He can imagine, all too easily, a teenaged Rodney wearing the same expression. "Rodney," he starts, but when he turns his head, Rodney's gone.

He goes outside, where Rodney's taking readings of the hillside off to the east.

"Rodney --"

"Quiet," Rodney says. He's staring intently at the screen. "I don't want to talk about it any more than you want to listen, so let's just skip the part where we do what you think we should and focus on finding this thing. You!" He stops a woman who's walking by. "Does anyone know what happened to that thing last night?"

She blinks at him. She's carrying a basket with some funny-looking deep purple root vegetables, one edge of the basket balanced against her hip. "Your friends looked," she says. "They did not find it."

"And has this ever happened before?" When she doesn't reply immediately, Rodney makes an impatient gesture. "Come on, this isn't rocket science. Has anyone ever disappeared from the village under mysterious circumstances?"

"No, never." The woman drops her head; her long, dark hair falls forward over her face. "Even the Wraith have not troubled us for many generations."

"That's pretty much what Teyla said before," John says to Rodney.

The woman hesitates, starts to walk away, then hesitates again. "There is... a story."

"A story? Are we talking about something historical, or some kind of fairy tale?" Rodney's tone makes it clear what he thinks of the latter.

"It is a story," she repeats, like she doesn't understand the question. She looks uncomfortable; John isn't sure if she's embarrassed or afraid. "It was told to me when I was a child. A bedtime story."

"Not a happy story," John says.

"No," she admits. "A story... designed to frighten children. To make them behave." She fidgets, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "But it is only a story."

"Yes, well, that's what we thought about Atlantis," Rodney snaps. "What was this thing called?"

"It is called _Bubakkra_ ," the woman says, in a low voice like she's scared it might hear her. "Please excuse me -- I must return to my work." She scurries off, still clutching her basket.

"Hell of a story," John says.

Rodney doesn't so much as glance at him. "And it might even be true," he says. "Maybe Teyla will know something about it."

They go back to find her and discover Lorne heading up the team that's arrived to pick up their slack. John doesn't like that it's necessary, but he accepts that it is and tries to focus on Rodney's thing instead of listening in on what Lorne and the others are talking about.

"Does that sound familiar to you?" Rodney's asking Teyla, after having filled her in on the discussion with the woman in the street.

"The legend of the Bubakkra?" She nods. "Yes, of course, although I did not hear of it until I was nearly grown. It is a story for children; nothing more."

"Aragorn's parents might disagree with you there," Rodney says.

Zelenka, who's part of Lorne's team and has been standing nearby, frowns. "What is the name again?"

"Bubakkra," Ronon supplies from where he's sitting on a rock.

"Yes," Zelenka says. "This sounds like a word from my childhood, Bubak. Is a similar legend."

"That's all well and good, but what does it _mean_?" Rodney asks, like he's not really expecting an answer.

But Zelenka has one. "Bubak," he says, making a spinning motion with one hand. "It means -- bugaboo." They all give him blank looks and he throws his hands up in the air. "Bogey! Bogey man."

Rodney's swallow is audible, his face gone pale when he finally speaks. "Boogeyman?"

"Yes! Boogeyman. But it is just a story, yes?" Zelenka says.

"You know," Rodney says, rubbing his face, "I'm getting really tired of people saying that."

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Based on some sketchy calculations Rodney comes up with, he and the rest of the team 'gate to several addresses in search of the -- John doesn't even know what to call it. He sure as hell isn't calling it 'the Boogeyman,' and when forced to discuss it out loud, he says, 'this thing' until Rodney starts giving him funny looks. Rodney swears there's some trace of an anomaly, something he can't explain, and it's not like they have any other ideas.

In the third location, the anomaly reading is stronger. "Yes! I knew it," Rodney says, eyes intent on the scanner's screen. "We're definitely on the right track. It's so weird... I'd come across some similar legends, years ago -- I even have some of the information in my research -- but it was so easy to discount it. It just sounded like fairy tales."

"I do not understand what we will do if we do find the Bubakkra." Teyla speaks the word carefully. Her usual calm is ruffled, just a little bit, and John wonders if she thinks saying it out loud might make the creature appear, like that urban legend about Bloody Mary. "Surely, if it is some sort of energy being, we will not be able to harm it with our weapons?"

"He doesn't just want to hurt it," Ronon says bluntly. When everyone looks at him, he clarifies. "He wants to catch it."

Rodney blinks, surprised. "Yes, well," he mutters grudgingly. "Maybe you do have some brain cells after all."

They make a fourth trip through the 'gate, but the trail, assuming what they were following even was one, has gone cold by the time they get there. Rodney is distraught, but with Teyla's help John manages to convince him that this isn't the end of the road and that they'll keep looking.

"I was so close," Rodney says back on Atlantis, when they're walking to their quarters. His shoulders are slumped and it looks like the scanner's going to slip out of his hand and onto the floor. John reaches down and takes it from him.

"It'll be okay," John says. "We'll find it. This is just a little set back."

Rodney glares at him, but it's an exhausted sort of glare. "Don't try to make me feel better -- it's a waste of time."

It usually is. Doesn't stop John from trying; it just seems like the right thing to do. They change and go to the mess hall for dinner, even though it's late. Ronon and Teyla are already there, half finished eating, and Teyla smiles at them expectantly before Rodney veers off and sits at a different table. John sighs, sets his tray down across from Rodney's, and goes over to where Teyla and Ronon are sitting.

"Sorry," he says, glancing back at Rodney. "He's not very good company right now. Trust me, you're better off."

"We are his friends," Teyla protests, but she relents at John's expression. "Of course. We understand."

Rodney eats mechanically, not saying a word. It's unlike him. Usually, when he's worked up about something, it's all John can do to get him to shut up about it. John figures maybe he's just tired -- they did walk about a hundred miles today -- until they get back to their quarters and Rodney pushes him up against the wall and kisses him feverishly.

"Rodney, what --"

"Just let me," Rodney mumbles against his throat, right underneath his ear, the spot guaranteed to make John hard in three point two seconds. "I don't -- I don't want to talk about it, and I don't want to sleep. I want this. I want -- you, I need --"

"Okay," John says, getting a hand around the back of Rodney's neck. "Okay, good. Good."

There's nothing hotter than having Rodney half ripping his clothes off him, and John is practical; he can worry later about Rodney's mental health. For now, he's going to enjoy every second of this, focus on the fact that he's giving Rodney what he wants. There can't be anything bad about that, can there?

"God, yes." Rodney turns John around and walks him backward toward the bed, shoving his pants down past his hips at the same time. It's a recipe for the kind of mild disaster that results in sprained ankles or twisted knees, but somehow they manage to get there without injury.

John undoes the front of Rodney's pants and slides his hand inside to grasp Rodney's dick, which is hard and slick at the tip. Rodney gasps against his mouth, breath hot and eager. "That's it," John says encouragingly. "Come on."

Between them, they strip off the rest of their clothes, John's cock bumping Rodney's hip and leaving a shiny, damp trail across the skin there in the process. They find the lube, Rodney rolls John over onto his stomach, one leg frogged out to the side, and sliiiiides into him so slow and sweet that John has to muffle his groan in the pillow.

Rodney's hips make an extra little rocking motion when he's already as deep as John thinks he can get and they both gasp.

"I just need --" Rodney says, then presses his mouth to John's shoulder and moves back almost all the way before thrusting forward again. It's another long, slow thrust. John can feel every inch of it, his nerves twitching, fingers digging into the sheets. He shudders and tries to stay still -- he can tell that Rodney wants to call the shots here, knows Rodney needs to be in control.

So he lies there and takes it as Rodney fucks him. Rodney pulls him up onto his knees and goes at it, hands clutching John's hips. After a couple of minutes of Rodney's hard cock stroking into him, though, John's so close to coming he thinks he's going to do it just like that, without a single touch.

"Rodney," he says. "Jesus, Rodney..."

"I know," Rodney gasps. "Oh, did you --" He doesn't finish asking the question, just slips his hand around to John's cock and grabs onto it. John cries out at the pleasure, the _shock_ of it, and comes. His arms give out and he ends up face-planted on the mattress with his ass still in the air.

Rodney starts to move faster, fucking him with so much force that they're probably both going to end up with friction burns on their knees. Usually, Rodney's just as talkative during sex as he is the rest of the time, but tonight he's silent. It's more than a little disturbing, actually, and John starts to wonder if he should say something himself when Rodney gasps and freezes, cock pulsing in John's ass.

He stays there a long time, not moving, before he finally eases out of John and lies down next to him.

"You okay?" John asks a couple of minutes later.

"Mm," Rodney says. The room is quiet. Then he says, "I love you, you know."

To say that hearing that surprises John would be the understatement of the century. They've never said it, although he'd have bet his life a dozen times over on the fact that the feeling was mutual. It's never seemed necessary to speak the words out loud. Or maybe, John thinks, that's just an excuse. Maybe he's just a coward. "I know. Me, too."

"I know," Rodney says, and puts his arm around John's waist.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

In the middle of the night, John wakes up with the feeling that something's wrong.

He's alone in the bed. "Rodney?"

No answer. John gets up and pulls on some clothes, glances into the bathroom even though he knows Rodney's not there. He finds his headset and slips it on. "Rodney?"

"Oh, good, there you are," Rodney says, like John's the one gone missing. "I found it. Well, not in so many words, but I was able to isolate the chemical secreted by the entity and trace it back to where we were, so now all we have to do is get back there and I'll be _able_ to find it. I've managed to make some modifications to the containment vessel the Ancients used to trap that shadow creature, and I think we'll be able to use that to capture it. Then we can --"

"John." It's Elizabeth's voice on the comm. "There's been another incident."

"What do you mean, incident?" he says.

"Like the one on M1K-683. A woman has disappeared on M7H-592. No one saw it happen, but under the circumstances, it seems to be--"

"More than a coincidence," Rodney finishes for her, sounding even more excited. "This is it, Colonel. I can feel it."

"I'll get Teyla and Ronon and meet you in the 'gate room in fifteen minutes," John says.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

The chemical trail left by the creature is still strong enough to set off Rodney's scanner, and leads away from the small village where the woman had disappeared. "At least it's not headed for the 'gate," Ronon says as they reach the crest of the hill overlooking the village. It's not just the four of them -- John insisted that they bring some extra men as back-up, and Rodney didn't argue because it means there's someone to carry the containment vessel, which is heavier than it looks.

They all stop as they look down onto the larger village in the valley below.

Ronon grunts. "Well, that's not good."

"No, it really isn't," Rodney says. He glances at the screen again, then makes an impatient gesture. He knows he's being fairly difficult to deal with, but can't spare the time to be any other way, not when his hands are trembling and his heart is pounding in his chest. "Well, come on. Let's go."

Twenty minutes later, they enter the village. The sun is going to rise soon -- there's just a faint hint of it on the horizon. It's quiet, as if most of the people are still sleeping. They come across one woman slipping out of her hut with a squirming infant making displeased squawks against her shoulder. Her eyes widen at the sight of them, and she freezes, unsure what to do.

Teyla steps forward. "Do not be afraid," she says. "We are not here to harm anyone. We are hunting a creature that may have been responsible for a disappearance in the smaller village to the north. Have you seen anything unusual?"

The woman shakes her head, but before anyone can say anything else, there's a sound like a fork scraping fine china, like fingernails on a blackboard. It's a sound that sends shivers down Rodney's spine and makes all the hairs on his body stand up. "Please tell me you guys heard that," he says, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Ronon says grimly. He motions at the woman and takes out his gun. "Get inside and stay there."

John's holding his weapon, too. "Come on. This way."

The buildings aren't tall, most of them not high enough to have a second floor, but with the sun not really up yet, they cast a hell of a lot of shadows. It's been a long time since Rodney was so aware of the distinction; all those years with the memory fading, one layer of it peeled away, then another, until he'd almost forgotten. God, he'd wanted to forget.

Now he can't stop remembering.

They pause around the corner of a hut. Something touches Rodney's elbow and he doesn't quite manage not to scream. "Jesus, Rodney," John says, voice low. "Easy. Your scanner tell you anything?"

He nods and points. "That way." It's a darkened space between two rows of small buildings, but even straining his eyes he can't see anything. It's just black, and the knowledge that that -- _thing_ \-- could be in there, invisible, but _there_ , shakes Rodney to the core. He glances behind at the men carrying the containment vessel and, probably less importantly, guns, since Rodney isn't sure they'll do any good against this thing. "Be careful."

"We will," Teyla says. They start creeping toward the shadows. "Can anyone see it?"

"No," Ronon says, answering for everyone. "You sure it's there?"

Rodney glares at him before hissing, " _Yes_ , I'm sure. The readings are unmistakable!" It makes a lot more sense than insisting that his _gut_ is telling him it's there, especially when his gut has been wrong before. Just a little bit closer...

"Maybe it's not --" John starts, and then he's just gone. It happens so fast, faster than the blink of eye, which is just a stupid cliche and doesn't _mean_ anything, not when --

"John!" Rodney shouts, then, to the rest of them, "Don't shoot! You could hit the Colonel!"

Ronon leaps forward into the shadows without hesitation, and Teyla follows before Rodney can even react. He's still cursing himself for having a brilliant mind and a shitty, cowardly heart when he follows. It's shockingly dark -- unnaturally dark -- as if the light Rodney knows is shining from Teyla's P-90 is being swallowed up.

"Can't see," Ronon says tightly, and that's when they hear John's muffled yell.

Rodney staggers a few feet further into the darkness, then keeps going, straining for another sound from John. He feels Teyla's arm bump into his, and says, "Here!" in an attempt to get Ronon there with them, too. Another step forward and he realizes that -- unless all sorts of laws of physics are being broken -- all they need to do is get out the other side.

He grabs onto Teyla's arm on one side and Ronon's on the other. "Just walk," he says, and moves forward. The space is narrow enough that they can't -- won't -- miss him. Rodney hopes.

It's so dark that they can't see the space that must be lighter just ten yards or so away, but Rodney forces himself to trust that it's there. They keep moving, ten feet, fifteen. There's a scream off to the right, the sound not unlike the one Rodney remembers, screeching. Ronon's on that side, and he shouts and fires his gun half a dozen times. There's a thump in front of them, and Rodney's foot collides with something. He stumbles at the same time Teyla does; they both reach down and grab onto John.

" _Fuck_ ," John gasps, and Rodney knows that he's hurt.

"Out," he says. "Keep going," and they do, staggering out from between the buildings so suddenly that Rodney falls to the ground beside John. He gets his hands on John's face, needing to reassure himself, and they come away slick with blood. "Oh, God."

"I'm okay," John says. He's covered with cuts everywhere Rodney can see -- his face and neck, across one ear, the backs of his hands. There's a lot of blood, and John is pale, but his eyes are clear and he doesn't look as freaked out as Rodney feels. "It's not that bad. Jesus, what the hell _is_ that thing?"

"The boogeyman, apparently," Rodney says. Ronon and Teyla are facing the place between the buildings, which is still as black as space without stars. "Go around! Don't step into the shadow!" He shouts it unnecessarily -- the men appear around the side of the nearest building, lugging the containment vessel. "It's about time! Get it in there, yes, yes, right there!"

They put down the device and Rodney quickly activates it. As it's triggered, the total absence of light becomes normal space again.

There's a small amount of smoke drifting up from the device, and no sign of the creature.

"Got you, you bastard," Rodney says grimly, and turns his attention back to John.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

An hour later, they've been joined by what seems like a battalion -- not that Rodney's exactly sure what a battalion _is_ \-- of soldiers, as well as Dr. Keller and one of her assistants. Jennifer is putting the last few stitches into John's eyebrow. Even after having the worst of the blood sponged off, he looks pretty gruesome. Rodney still feels like he's shaking, but when he looks down at his hands, they're steady enough.

"Okay, there we go." Jennifer dabs at John's eyebrow gently and inspects his face. "I don't think it'll scar."

"Thanks, Doc," John says. He has more stitches along his jaw and on the side of his neck, and another set along his bare shoulder.

Usually, Rodney finds shirtless John fairly distracting, but today he can't stop glancing at the containment vessel, even though there's nothing to see. The reality is, he has no reason to think this is the same creature that killed his mother -- and he does believe, deep down, that she's dead, even if there wasn't any blood -- but somehow that doesn't seem to matter. This feels like getting revenge.

"Rodney," John says, and Rodney realizes he's been standing there staring at the device for some time.

"Yes, what?"

"You okay?" John is standing beside him. He put his shirt back on, Rodney notes, though the cuts in the fabric are still easily visible.

Rodney nods. "I'll be better once we take care of this."

"So what do we need to do?"

"Well, considering its behavior, not to mention what the legends have to say on the matter -- not that we know for sure that the legends in the Pegasus galaxy are even the same as ours, although I think it's a reasonable assumption under the circumstances -- I'd say that exposing it to full sunlight ought to do the trick." The sun is over the horizon now.

John frowns and touches the stitches along his jaw gingerly. "Wouldn't take long to walk it out that way." He gestures toward the east, a flat area without any trees for what looks like miles.

"You're not seriously suggesting that we just open up this thing in the middle of a populated planet," Rodney says, staring at John, aghast. When did the man get so stupid? "You do realize how quickly this thing moves?"

"Well, yeah, but if sunlight's gonna take care of it, I figured --" John shakes his head, starts to rub his hand along the back of his neck the way he often does, then stops and winces when he grazes freshly-stitched skin.

"Stop that," Rodney snaps, batting his hand away before he hurts himself as someone comes up beside them.

"Um, Rodney..." It's Zelenka.

Rodney glares at him. Can't he see they're in the middle of something? "Yes, yes. This had better be important."

"We have a problem," Zelenka says. Teyla and Ronon appear as if from nowhere to listen. "The containment vessel is showing signs that it may fail."

"What do you mean, showing signs?" Rodney says. He'd thought he was out of adrenaline; apparently he was wrong. He snatches the scanner from Zelenka's hands and studies it. "Oh no." He looks up and meets John's eyes. "The containment field's not strong enough to hold it. Even if we could boost the field --"

"Which we cannot," Zelenka adds.

"-- there isn't time." Rodney checks once more, just to be sure, but it's perfectly clear. "Oh, we are so screwed."

"Maybe not," John says. "Come on."

With the brute force of the extra soldiers, they lug the containment vessel half a mile from the village, east toward the area where there's clear space. The device is emitting a low-pitched whine that Rodney doesn't like the sound of, and he's just about to point out that this could be bad even on the scale of extremely bad things when the whine gets louder and a wisp of dark smoke curls up from the equipment.

"What the --" John starts.

"Put it down!" Rodney says. "Now! What are you waiting for? Down, down!" They all back up in answer to Rodney's furiously waving hands. The vessel gives a shudder and the whine slows to a dull hum before stopping altogether.

Above them, the sun, which has been shining serenely and protectively, is obscured by a passing cloud, plunging the landscape into shadow.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!" Rodney shrieks in disbelief.

A dark mist starts to pour from the top of the containment vessel. It forms itself into something vaguely human-shaped, and Rodney feels his heart kick into high gear, thudding in his chest so furiously that he wonders if he's having a heart attack. He stumbles backward and John catches his elbow, steadies him. "Easy," John says. "We're okay." And the sun clears the edge of the cloud, the world exploding into light.

The creature hesitates. It seems, for a few seconds, to be trying to get back _inside_ the containment vessel, which has stopped doing anything but sitting there like a useless hunk of equipment. There's that sound again -- the high-pitched screech like fingernails on a chalkboard, metal on metal -- and even though the creature doesn't have any facial features, Rodney gets the distinct impression that it's pissed off.

It's an impression that's pretty much confirmed when the creature starts to move toward him, still screeching. John and Ronon immediately fire at it, even though that didn't seem to work before and isn't working now. But it doesn't matter -- the sunlight is doing its job, the entity dissipating, going from shadow to mist, burning up right before their eyes.

It moves like a snake or a many-tentacled thing, seeming to slide effortlessly along the ground without touching it, but it's fading, fading fast. It's a barely visible wisp, then it's gone.

"Good," Rodney mutters. "I hope you rot in hell." His heart still racing, he checks his scanner. Yes, definitely gone.

"Is that it?" John asks.

"Yes," Rodney says. There's a new sound, a sort of roaring in his ears. He doesn't realize until he starts to go down that he's passing out.

He can feel someone's hands on him, keeping him from hitting the ground. That's nice, he thinks. He gets enough bruises as it is. He blinks, hearing John's familiar voice saying something urgent, then something gentle.

"Rodney. Come on, buddy, it's all over. It's okay."

"Is it really gone?" Rodney asks. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"

Ronon's rich chuckle shakes Rodney, who realizes he's propped up against the big man's chest. "You're not dreaming," Ronon says.

"Oh, thank God," Rodney breathes. "Because that was -- I mean, I didn't --"

"Easy," John says.

"I'm fine," Rodney says, struggling to sit up on his own. "It was just... kind of intense." His sense of relief, in the aftermath, is so strong that his muscles feel weak and shaky.

"Yeah," John says. "It was."

Jennifer comes running up, carrying her medical kit. "Okay, I'm here. What happened?"

"I think he just got a little wobbly," John says.

"Oh, is that your expert medical opinion?" Rodney asks him.

"Let's leave the medical opinions to me," Jennifer says. She examines Rodney quickly, then nods. "Well, I'd say you got a little wobbly."

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Thank you."

"You've been running yourself ragged," she says matter-of-factly. "You need a week off -- _no_ work, I mean it -- and I think you should spend most of it in bed." John muffles a cough behind his hand and she glances at him, then flushes. " _Sleeping_." Her lips curve into a little grin. "Well, most of the time, anyway."

"There, you see?" John says, smiling widely and reaching for Rodney's hand, pulling him to his feet. "Doctor's orders."

Rodney looks around at the empty landscape. The sun in shining down brightly -- he can feel the warmth of it on his skin -- and he discovers that for once he's not worried about sunburn or melanoma. For once, he's not afraid about what might be hiding in the shadows.

John's hand is still gripping his, and Rodney isn't scared.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" John asks.

Rodney glares at him. "If you ask me _one_ more time, I'm leaving you here in the driveway."

The house Rodney grew up in is currently on the market. In fact, it's been on the market a lot in the past twenty years, almost like people have been able to sense that something bad happened there or something.

"Okay, fine," John says, holding up his hands. "I won't ask again, I promise."

"Good," Rodney says. He's in the passenger seat, looking nervous. "I -- thank you. For coming with me." He doesn't look at John as he says it, but after a few seconds his eyes dart to John's face, searching it.

John reaches out and rests his hand on Rodney's thigh. "It's no problem," he says, voice low and rough, and Rodney offers him a tremulous smile.

They have the key from the realtor. John's sure it's not as easy as that in real life, but being part of the military can grease the squeakiest wheels, and telling the woman that Rodney had lived in the house as a kid didn't hurt. He tries to give the key to Rodney as they go up the front walk to the small porch, but Rodney doesn't take it.

"I can't," he says, and holds up a hand so John can see that it's shaking.

"S'okay. I've got it." John unlocks the door slowly, giving Rodney some time to pull himself together, if that's even possible, then pushes it open.

The house has been empty for a couple of months this time around. Whoever owns it now has obviously taken advantage of the lack of furniture to refinish the old wooden floors, which gleam a soft gold where the sun comes in through the windows. The curtains are old-fashioned and white, some semi-sheer kind of fabric that might be muslin -- or maybe not. It's not like John's a fabric expert.

He steps inside and looks around. Rodney's still loitering in the doorway, uncertain. "Come on," John says.

"Well, yes," Rodney says. "I suppose we did come all this way..."

They explore the first floor, which doesn't take long because when there's no furniture there's not much to see. Rodney opens a door that leads to a walk-in pantry complete with a sink and a wine rack.

"This is new." Rodney runs water into the sink, watches as it runs down the drain.

"It's been a long time," John says. "You think the upstairs is still the same?"

"Hm. Yes, good. I see what you did there. Very subtle," Rodney says, and pushes past John heading for the staircase.

The stairs creak underfoot. The staircase is wide enough for the two of them to walk side by side up it. Just shy of the top step, Rodney pauses.

John stops, too, and waits. He manages not to ask, again, if Rodney's sure he wants to do this. Deep down, he knows Rodney _has_ to do this. Finally, Rodney takes the last step and gestures to the right. "My room was down here."

It's a guest room now, with pale green wallpaper and an old-fashioned light fixture hanging from the ceiling. There's nothing about it that's even slightly creepy. John tries to picture what it might have looked like when it was Rodney's -- a blue bedspread, maybe, and a computer desk over near the window. "You ever climb this tree?" he asks, walking over to the window and pointing at the huge maple stretching a branch below the sill.

"Are you kidding? And risk breaking something?" Rodney sounds like he's not really paying attention at first, then clears his throat. "Besides, it wasn't that big twenty years ago."

"Yeah, I guess not." John turns away from the window. "Which room was Jeannie's?"

Rodney leads him across the hall to a room with almost-neon yellow paint.

"Whoa!" John says, blinking. "That's... an interesting color choice."

"Maybe the person who decorated was color blind," Rodney says. "It used to be pink, can you believe that?"

John smiles. "Jeannie doesn't seem like she would have been a pink sort of girl."

"She wasn't," Rodney agrees. "That's what was so annoying about it. In fact, I'm pretty sure she did it just to irritate me."

"Sounds like it worked," John says, and Rodney grins back at him. It's a strained grin, but John will take what he can get.

"All right." Rodney nods, his jaw tight with determination. "Come on, let's get this over with."

His mother's bedroom is on the other side of the staircase. It has the same old-fashioned charm as the rest of the house -- reasonably high ceilings with crown molding, wood floor, six-pane windows. It's a nice house. John actually likes it, or would if he didn't know what Rodney had experienced here. Rodney is pale as he stands there in the doorway. "Is this where you were?" John asks.

"Yes," Rodney says. There's a pause before he goes on. "I came down the hallway and stopped here. The bed was over there." He waves toward the right hand wall. "My mother was sleeping, and the -- the creature was there, near the closet. The closet door wasn't closed. She never could close it; she had too many things in there, none of the clothes were ever hung up. It was a real mess."

John waits.

"And then it moved toward the bed. I -- I wanted to scream. I think I actually opened my mouth, but nothing came out." Rodney swallows painfully. John wants to hug him. "I turned on the light --" He reaches out and flicks on the switch to illustrate, but the bulbs don't make much difference in the already-bright room. "There was that noise, and they both just disappeared."

Rodney's voice breaks on the last word, and John does, too, abandoning any thoughts of leaving Rodney his dignity. He wraps both arms around Rodney and holds him tightly, and Rodney clings to him.

"I just wanted them to believe me," he says against John's neck. "I wanted to find her. I tried so hard."

"I know you did," John says, He rubs Rodney's shoulder, wishing he could take this from him.

"How could you know? You weren't there."

"I wish I had been," John says, more fiercely than he means to. "Rodney, I didn't need to be there. I know _you_."

Rodney's strong, solid arms are holding onto John like he's never going to let him go, which is just fine with John. "Thanks," Rodney mumbles finally. He turns his head and looks at the room. "I loved this house, you know? When I was a kid, of course, before... well. It was the only place that was ever really _home_ , until Atlantis."

"I get that," John says. He takes Rodney's face between his hands and looks at him, at the little worry lines around his blue, blue eyes and the unhappy curve of his lips, and all of a sudden all he can think about is helping Rodney create some new memories to cover up the old ones. He kisses Rodney, the press of his mouth soft and gentle. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Rodney smiles crookedly and reaches up to trace the still-reddened scar on John's eyebrow. "Thanks," he says. "I mean it. I don't think I could have done this without you."

"Plus how much fun would it have been?" John asks, grinning.

Giving him a sour look as they go back into the hallway and start down the stairs, Rodney says, "I think I'd remember the fun part."

"Yeah, well, maybe it hasn't happened yet." John says.

"What _is_ the fun part?" Rodney asks.

"Here's what I figure," John tells him. "It's a big world, and the Daedalus is in orbit. What do you say we find a nice sunny spot on a beach somewhere?"

Rodney nods thoughtfully. " _Lots_ of sun."

"And beer," John says.

"Fine, fine, beer," Rodney says. They step out onto the front porch and he shuts the door firmly behind them. "Just no Corona! I don't know why you people have to ruin already-substandard beer with citrus."

"'We people'?," John echoes as they walk toward the car. "Is this going to turn into another rant about Americans?"

"If the shoe fits..." Rodney says. "Besides, it's not my fault that you have shitty taste in beer."

"I do not!" John protests loudly enough that a woman watering her garden across the street turns to look at them. Sheepishly, he raises a hand in apology, and after a few seconds she nods and goes back to work. "I don't have shitty taste in beer," he says in a more normal voice.

"Yes, you do," Rodney says.

"No, I don't. Do you even know what kind of beer I drink?" The answer, of course, is that he doesn't have much of a preference as long as it's cold and available.

Rodney waves the question away. "That's not even remotely the point."

"Then what _is_?" John asks, on the edge of exasperated. He opens the driver's side door on the rental car but doesn't get in because Rodney is still standing there, not going around to the other side of the car.

"Oh," Rodney says, like he hasn't realized until right then that there really _isn't_ a point, that once again he's just arguing for the sake of arguing. Then his face clears, and he steps in closer to John. The door is between them; he rests his hand on the top of it, fingers curled over the sun-warmed metal. "I suppose you have _some_ taste," he says grudgingly.

John puts his own hand over Rodney's, their fingers intertwining. He rubs his thumb along Rodney's knuckles, smiles, and says, "Yeah, I like to think so."

 

_End_


End file.
